American Honey by frostygossamer
Part 2: The S.O.B.
As soon as Dean was gone, Deborah got up and grabbed her honey jar. In a moment she was knocking on the door of Sam's room. He opened the door right away, wearing only his underwear.
"Got some left, Sammy. You ready for some more fun?", she said pressing the jar into his hand.
Sam stood back and let her enter, grinning like a fool. Hell, this was one big mistake and he was gonna regret it. But he was gonna make it worth regretting.
Deborah kissed him on the jaw, slipping Dean's fingers into his waistband and letting his boxers drop to the carpet. Sam felt his fingers unbuttoning Dean's shirt. As he pulled it down over Dean's shoulders Deborah chuckled, kicking off Dean's shoes. God that chuckle sounded dirty.
Sam had a double bed, which was nice. Deborah flung herself on the bed laughing, wriggling out of Dean's pants. Sam joined her, nipping Dean's collarbone playfully as she wrapped Dean's legs around him. He caressed the side of Dean's neck with his tongue, up behind his ear, and sucked his earlobe hungrily. Deborah grabbed his shoulders and forced him to turn over onto his belly. Dean was strong.
"Your turn, Sammy baby", Deborah insisted.
She bit Sam teasingly on the soft skin at the back of his neck, and kissed him long and slow on the tender spot between his shoulder blades. She nibbled all the way down his arched backbone, down to his muscular butt. Then she dribbled the honey slowly between his buttocks, making them slick and gooey. She slid Dean's tongue into his crack, and licked deep into the honey drenched opening. Sam squirmed in pleasure.
"Oh God", he breathed.
"Just relax, Sammy", Deborah whispered with Dean's voice, low, sensual and dangerous. "I'm gonna make you squeal, baby. You're gonna beg for more".
Right then Sam's cell chose to ring. 'Stairway to Heaven' had been a bizarrely appropriate ringtone choice.
"Ignore it, Sammy", Deborah hissed. "We don't want to be disturbed right now, do we?".
Sam hummed assent, and Deborah began to push Dean's badboy rhythmically, deep into his soul.
('o')
The exchange with Deborah had left Dean feeling decidedly creeped out. The bar at the end of the Main Street offered a welcome alternative mindset. As he shoved the door open, he was barged into by a roughneck in a Stetson. Dean shrugged his jacket straight and continued inside. "That kind of joint, OK", he thought.
Dean took a seat on a stool at the bar and ordered a beer and a whiskey chaser. He stared at his reflection in the mirror wall behind the bar, toying with his drink. The blonde stared back.
OK, so what if he couldn't change back, if he was stuck like this? Would life as a woman be so bad? Half the population got by OK, right? At least she was a looker, 5 maybe 6 years older than him. But that was OK, women generally live longer anyway, right?
And as for sex. Well obviously he would have to go lesbian, but that would work for him. It might even be fun. He snickered to himself wickedly.
Then something else occurred to him. Kids, what about kids? He liked kids and he'd always kinda liked the idea of being a father, someday. Hell, what was he thinking, if he was a woman he could always have one himself, all he'd need was a sperm bank, right? Childbirth couldn't be any more painful than half the things he had already put his body through. Piece of cake! And maybe he could even talk Sam into contributing a cupful, then the kid would even be a little Winchester! That would be kinda neat. God, now he was getting broody!
Something heavy flopped itself down on the stool next to him, beer in hand. The gorilla set his glass down on the bar and began counting a wad of bills.
"Backed the winning team for once", he said to the barman and generally, by way of explanation.
Dean ignored him. "Same again", the guy said gesturing around.
Dean accepted the top-up without even thinking. The big galoot turned around and grinned at him.
"I'm Pete", he said. "Sure, pal", Dean replied uninterestedly.
Pete was feeling generous and more drinks were poured. Dean began to think this was a pretty great guy, but that could have been the alcohol.
Eventually his new pal Pete made a move to leave.
"Coming?", he said affably. "I got a hummer outside. Give you a lift home?".
It was pretty late by now and Dean thought, "Yeah, time to call time".
"Sure", he said, and followed the big guy outside to the parking lot.
The cold night air hit Dean harder than usual, and he almost stumbled on the grit of the lot. Pete caught him by the waist and stood him up. "You OK?", he asked, not letting go.
"Oh sure. I'm fine", Dean mumbled, pulling away from his buddy. He started to walk away, but Pete grabbed his arm.
"Oh no, you don't, little lady", he hissed. "You're coming with me".
His fingers bit painfully into Dean's female biceps. He tugged but he hadn't the strength to break away.
The truth of the situation suddenly dawned on Dean. His eyes widened in disbelief.
He fumbled in his pocket for his cell, Deborah's cell. Pete saw that and grabbed at the phone, relaxing his grip for an instant. Dean took the opportunity to run. Hell, he had never run as fast as this before, not when he was in his right mind.
He ducked into a dark doorway and keyed in Sam's number. The call tried to connect, but no one picked up. It went to voicemail.
"Damn!", Dean gasped. "Sam, Sam, I need you here right now. This guy. Oh God. I'm here on Sugar Street. Get off your ass and get here". He was panting and it wasn't just from the running. He was frightened.
('o')
Sam rolled over on his back and sighed. There were times when he wished that he smoked. This was one of them. Deborah chuckled and rolled onto his chest.
"I'm gonna miss this when I change back", she mused smirking. "If I change back", she added hastily.
Sam grinned and brushed the damp hair off of Dean's glistening brow. "Me too", he whispered, a little sadness tingeing his voice.
Lazily he reached out and picked up his cell phone from the bedside table, curious about that annoying call that had interrupted them earlier.
There was a voicemail from an unrecognised number. He listened to it.
"Oh Crap!", he yelled, rocketing out of bed. "I gotta go. Dean's in trouble".
"What's wrong?", Deborah asked concerned.
"Where's Sugar Street?", Sam asked, throwing on some clothes.
"Just behind Main Street", she replied. "Runs parallel".
For a moment Sam expected 'Dean' to come with him but, oh yeah, this was Deborah.
"Better you just wait here", he said. "I've gotta go get Dean. I'll be back soon".
He grabbed Dean's keys, and his gun, and slammed the door as he left.
Deborah sat up feeling sticky. "Better take a shower", she thought. "Dean's gonna want the dishes done before he gets home".
('o')
Sam stopped the Impala at the end of Sugar Street. He got out and checked his gun, sticking it back into his belt, ready. There was no sign of human life. He checked the doorways and shadows as he walked the length of the street. Then he found an abandoned building. It's boarded door had been forced.
He stepped inside cautiously, with his weapon extended. There was no one downstairs. But upstairs? As he silently climbed the steps, he heard a faint scuffling coming from a room on his left. As he paused at the threshold, he saw the shadowy outline of a big thug leaning over a crumpled figure scrunched into the corner of the room. All he could hear was the incoherent swearing of the big guy and a faint "No! No! No! No!", almost like a prayer.
Sam didn't hesitate. In two steps he was across the room and hit the guy a resounding clang across the skull with his gun-butt. The guy fell heavily, cursing as he struggled to get up. But Sam's anger was unabated, his eyes black with fury. He pistol-whipped the son of a bitch until he lay senseless. Maybe he was dead. Sam didn't give a fuck!
Dean lay crushed in a corner in the fetal position, shivering. He looked very small, very female, very pathetic. Sam slipped his arm around her shoulders. Dean flinched involuntarily but he let Sam lift him up onto her feet. Deborah's T-shirt was torn, her breasts exposed, and her jeans clung loosely around her hips. Dean attempted to pull her jacket closed over her chest. He swayed weakly. He looked like he might faint. Sam swept his other arm behind her knees and picked him up. Deborah's voice protested weakly.
"Shut up", Sam said quietly. "I'm here. You're OK now".
He carried Dean down the stairs and back up the street to the Impala. He lowered him into the passenger seat, securing his seat-belt, then he walked around the front and got in the driver's seat.
"Bastard", he mouthed soundlessly.
In a few minutes they were back at the motel. Deborah met them at the door, anxious to know what had happened. Sam carried Dean to his bed and propped him up against the pillows.
('o')
When Dean was settled, Deborah drew Sam to one side to talk. "What happened?", she asked worried.
"Some creep tried to rape him", Sam spit. "Tried?"
"Oh my God!", Deborah exclaimed. "Oh God, Sam. It's all my fault".
"How could it be your fault?", Sam asked. "You didn't make this happen".
"Oh but I did", Deborah confessed. "It was me. It was me all the time. I caused the body swap. It was my spell. I'm a witch!".
Sam shot her a sceptical look. "You? Are a witch?", he asked unbelieving.
"I made this mojo", she said. "It was just meant to be a bit of fun. I never meant to do any harm".
Sam sighed. This was rich. "OK", he said calmly. "The fun's over now. You gotta swap back. Dean needs to be himself again. Take back the mojo and let's get this over".
Deborah lay down on the other bed, muttered a few words of hocus-pocus and lay still, eyes closed as if in sleep. Nothing appeared to happen, but a moment later the female body that had been Dean coughed and stood up. She tugged at her torn clothes.
"Hey, I'll get you another shirt", Sam offered helpfully.
When she had changed, Deborah said, "I guess I oughta go".
"You gonna be OK?", Sam asked.
"Sure", Deborah replied. "I do this all the time, baby. Although it usually ends better. I'm kinda a rolling stone, you know. I used to be a lonely spinster in Ohio until I found an old book on witchcraft in the library. I tried a little swap with the local Miss Beauty-Pageant. But didn't the poor silly airhead get herself killed in a car crash the first day? So I've been moving on ever since".
"Oh yeah? Well, keep safe", Sam said and pecked her lightly on the cheek. Deborah grabbed his face and gave him a long lingering kiss goodbye.
"Take care", she said, and with that she was gone.
Sam turned his attention to his poor brother. Dean's own god-given body was breathing slowly, dead to the world.
('o')
Sam looked down at Dean sleeping restlessly, curled up on the bed. He had been like that for hours. He was exhausted. Shock will do that to you.
Sam felt useless, inadequate. How are you supposed to treat someone who's been sexually assaulted? A shrink would know, but there would be no shrinks. Dean wouldn't put up with that. So it was up to Sam, and he didn't know where to start.
He wanted to hold him. But would that be OK? Maybe he wouldn't want to be touched. He wanted to beg Dean to forgive him. He felt so totally guilt-ridden about not being there when he needed him, not answering when he called. Not this time. This time he had been... distracted.
And while that S.O.B. had been out there abusing Deborah's body, he had been abusing Dean's. Without his consent. Wasn't that just the same? Betrayal? Rape?
Dean uncurled and opened his eyes, perhaps aware that he was being watched.
"Sam?", he asked uncertainly, his voice a little cracked.
"It's alright, Dean. I'm here", Sam replied. "Do you need anything?".
Dean smacked his dry lips together and ran his tongue over them.
"You want something to drink?", Sam asked. "I'll get you some water".
"Hell, I need something stronger than that", Dean complained, sitting up against the headboard.
Sam fetched a bottle of whiskey from his bag and poured Dean a stiff glassful. Dean knocked it back gratefully and motioned for a refill.
"How do you feel?", Sam asked solicitously.
"Like shit!", Dean replied. "And hungry", he added. "And I feel like I need a shower. Yeah, I know that this is a different body. But that's how I feel".
"OK", Sam replied, glad to have something to do. "I'll go get some food while you hit the shower. I won't be long". And he left.
Dean stood in the shower for a long time, letting the too hot water turn his skin bright pink and wash away the feeling of being manhandled just a little.
When he came out of the shower he put on a sweater and sweatpants, sat down on the middle of his bed cross-legged and tried to clear his mind.
With a rattle of keys, Sam let himself back in the room.
"I got you cheeseburgers and fries. And a nice big slice of homemade apple pie", he said cheerfully.
Then he took a look at Dean. Dean was wearing Sam's sweater and pants.
Sam set down the take-out and sat next to Dean. "There were clean clothes in your bag, Dean", he said.
"I like these", Dean replied quietly. "They're comfortable, OK?".
Sam climbed on the bed, kneeling behind Dean and, wrapping his arms around him, he pulled him tight against his chest, resting his chin on Dean's shoulder. Dean leaned his head against his brother's. They stayed like that silently for a long while.
"I'm sorry", Sam murmured. "I let you down, bro".
"No", Dean said. "Never say that. It was my fault. I was stupid".
"But you didn't deserve what you got, Dean", Sam sobbed. "You didn't deserve to be...".
"He didn't rape me, Sam", Dean interrupted quickly. "He was gonna but you got there in time. He just...", he paused, the memory painful. "He just kinda groped me. But he frightened me, Sam. I've never felt like that before. I've been stabbed, shot, slashed, punched, bitten, but nothing has scared me like that. I've never felt so vulnerable, so hopeless and weak. That's not me, Sam. And I'm never gonna let anyone make me feel like that again".
"That's my big brother", Sam thought smiling. "'Suck it up and keep driving' is so the real Dean. That's why I love the guy".
Dean clapped his hands together. "OK, where's the food? I'm freakin' ravenous".
('o')
Two months had passed and Dean had spent a lot of the time being quiet and thoughtful, but he had kinda gotten over that. In fact he seemed to be much his old self.
Sam had never told him, of course, about what he and Deborah had been up to while he was swapped. How could you tell someone about that? Some things can't be forgiven.
But it was OK. They were together and that was enough for Sam.
Still, Sam had his daydreams sometimes.
So today they had walked into a little Mom and Pop store. Sam was paying for their purchases at the till, flirting a little with the old lady co-owner, while Dean monkeyed around with a display of local farm produce by the door. There were free samples. He loved free stuff.
Dean unscrewed the lid from a little jar of organic honey and stuck a finger in. He raised it sloppily to his mouth and sucked it clean.
"Whoa!", he yelled suddenly, discovering a strange but pleasant physical reaction to the sweet goo.
"And I'll take a jar of that too", Sam told the old dame, settling up.
He grabbed Dean's arm and dragged him out the door.
"Holy Crap! What in hell do they put in this stuff?", Dean exclaimed. "It's... it's... orgasmic!"
Sam chuckled. "I'll explain it to you some time", he promised.
The End
A/N: OK that's all the naughtiness out of my system in one go. Now I can go back to the convent! (joke) ;)
A/N: Hoped you enjoyed this. Reviews/comments would be lovely.